


The Sword of Cold

by Overtone



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Character Death, Chillrend Origin Story, Destiny, F/M, How Mankar Camoran got the Mysterium Xarxes, Post: The Killing Field, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overtone/pseuds/Overtone
Summary: After the Hero of Kvatch has driven the goblins away from the Odiil farm, Valus celebrates the victory with his sons with a bottle of mead by the fire. But then Antus asks him: "Dad? What was that sword the stranger walked away with?"Or: the Chillrend origin story nobody asked for.
Relationships: Valus Odiil/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	The Sword of Cold

“Dad. Dad!” Antus Odiil screamed in joy as he and his brother entered his father’s home. “We did it! We’ve slain the foul goblins that attacked our farm!”  
“With the help of that stranger,” his brother Rallus remarked, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was a joy the creatures were defeated. They finally could go back to their farm, tending the fields like they used to.  
"Well done, boys," Valus praised his sons, beaming with pride. "You make your old man proud. Here, come sit by the fire, and let's drink on our victory!" he said as he opened three bottles of Nord mead.   
The three men sat back, enjoying the cold beverages in the fire's glow. "Dad?" the younger son asked, "what was that sword the stranger walked away with? I haven't seen him wear it when fighting the goblins."  
"Ah, yes. Chillrend," their father recognized. "Fantastic sword. Sharper than a razor. Colder than any frost enchantment you will find in your life."  
"Then why didn't you give it to us to fight the creatures?" Rallus accused his father. "We wouldn't have had to wait for the stranger to appear!"  
Valus sighed. “I suppose you are ready for the truth now. I have always been scared to tell you the story of how I got this sword, I didn't know how you would react."  
"What's wrong, dad?" the eldest son asked sincerely. "Why would you be afraid of our reactions?"  
Valus took a deep breath. "Because the story of how I got the sword … is the story of how your mother got killed."

“It started when I was about your age. I was a gladiator in Dragonstar, together with an old friend of mine, Pranal. The two of us were among the best, with Pranal being undoubtedly the best in his fighting style. The way he moved in his heavy raiment was unmatched by anyone, probably even to this day.  
One day, all gladiators had to fight in a competition in the emperor’s presence, may he rest in peace. As usual, the noblemen for whom the competition was organized weren’t really interested in the fighting. It was more to raise the status of the organizer and the noblemen. Uriel VII was no different at earlier fights. He was talking with the others at his balcony, briefly greeting the combatants with a nod before returning to his conversation.  
But when Pranal and I had to fight each other, the emperor’s eyes opened wide, and he leaned back, not letting us escape out of his sight. I remember we looked at each other in confusion, but we fought nonetheless when the munerator gave the sign. We fought for quite a while, as we knew each other’s moves and how to parry them, but in the end, Pranal drew my blood and won the tournament. He got his prize, and we both headed down to the hypogeum, where your mother treated my wound.”  
“Mom?” Antus asked. “She worked there?”  
His father nodded and smiled as he thought about his late wife. “She did indeed. It was a men’s world down there, but Sabina stood her ground. She was trained in the arcane arts, and the best healer in Dragonstar. No gladiator would want to get on her bad side, so romantic gestures were quickly halted.”  
“But yours didn’t,” Rallus noted.  
Valus chuckled. “No, mine didn’t. I still don’t know how I did it. It involved winning my first tournament and a lot of mead, that’s for sure.  
But anyway, when your mother’s warm magic healed the cut in my arm, a royal servant came down to the hypogeum and asked for the two finalists: Pranal and me. He wanted us to speak to the emperor.”

“Now, it wasn’t unusual a nobleman would call for one or two gladiators after all the fights were over. If it were during the afterparty, they would like to see them fight again. On a rare occasion, a gladiator would be offered a job for that nobleman. Either way, the pay for being called up was really good, so still wearing the armor and the wounds healed, we followed the servant to the emperor’s chambers.  
It was an unusual sight to behold. We expected the room to be full of guests, servants, and guards, but it was empty. The only other people besides Pranal, the servant, and I, were two guards posted outside the room and the emperor himself. If we had evil intentions, we could have killed the emperor right there and then. He trusted us, without ever having met us beforehand.  
We bowed to pay the emperor respect, but he urged us not to. Instead, we sat down in luxurious chairs, where another servant brought us some wine and something to eat. Not the cheap wine they serve at the Grey Mare, but a delicious, expensive drink only the wealthiest men in Tamriel could drink. I looked at Pranal and saw the same disbelief in his eyes. Why did this happen to us?  
The emperor talked a bit to us about the tournament, complimenting us on our fighting skills and asking about how things were behind the gates of the arena. It was when we were eased up when he changed the topic. ‘Do you believe in fate, gentlemen?’ he asked.  
We didn’t know what to say to this sudden change of tone. Yes, I believe the Nine guide us, but _fate_ is something different.  
The emperor continued without us answering: ‘My forefathers were able to see glimpses of the future. It is the dragon blood that flows through our veins that grants us this gift. It helps us rule Tamriel to the best of our abilities.  
Like my forefathers, I have this gift too, and I have seen the doom that awaits this land. In a few decades, Nirn will face a crisis, and it will need a Champion to overcome it. Now, you won't be that Champion I saw in my dreams, but you will help him or her, each in your own way. You may recognize that person as the Champion when the time comes, but maybe you don't. Either way, I have faith you will do the right thing.'  
Pranal and I gave each other a puzzled look. It was a great pep talk, but we didn't really need it. Then, in my youthful boldness, I asked the emperor directly why he really called for us.”  
Valus’ sons reacted shocked upon hearing their father's action. "I know it wasn't probably my smartest move, but the emperor didn't mind my audacity. He assumed it was still the adrenaline of the fight that was coursing through my veins. He said it was a good attribute for the challenges yet to come."  
"Then what did you have to do, dad?" Antus begged on the edge of his seat. A smile appeared on Valus’s lips. It was good to see the enthusiasm on his youngest son’s face. Rallus on the other hand wasn’t as happy. He was leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees, and silently contemplated over his father’s story. It was clear Rallus was thinking of his mother's death.  
The old man decided to keep on talking with the same enthusiasm he had before. It would grant Antus a nice story to dream about, and hopefully, it would offer Rallus some closure.  
“The emperor gave us a couple of instructions,” he said. “Pranal and I had to form a group of three with a third person. The emperor hadn’t met him or her, but he was confident we knew the right person. Without discussing, Pranal and I both thought of your mother. He was the sturdy warrior, I was a nimble acrobat, and she would bring magic to the team.  
With this group of three, we had to head to the city of Riften, in the southeast of Skyrim. Somewhere near this city, we would find the material needed to craft the weapon, which was the final step of our quest.  
We didn’t know what to do. Sure, it was a quest, one to overcome a crisis, but we were just two young men. We had a whole life to live, and the two of you were already born,” Valus said to his sons. “I just couldn’t leave you behind for a suicide mission.  
The emperor presumably saw the hesitance on our faces and took a coin purse from his royal robes. It was filled with a thousand gold coins, and that was just to pay for our expenses during our travels. When we succeeded, each one of us would either get a farm in the fertile Great Forest, or an amount of gold of the same value as the farm. When, not if we succeeded.  
I think I don't need to tell you the value of that reward. It tipped the scales, and we agreed to make this crisis-averting weapon.

So first we asked Sabina to join us on this quest, and she agreed much faster than we did. She was not only kind, pretty, and a gifted mage, but also very curious and she wanted to see the rest of the world. She now finally had a chance to leave Dragonstar and explore Tamriel, and she grabbed it with both hands,” Valus said melancholically. If they had never offered her the chance, she would probably still be alive.  
“We took the next day to gather supplies and to say goodbye to the two of you. It was hard to leave you behind, even in the hands of Airena, our maid, but we couldn’t take you with us. With two and six years old, you were far too young.  
So with a heavy heart Pranal, your mother, and I took a carriage out of Dragonstar and headed off to Riften. Though our minds were with you in Dragonstar, our eyes were in the carriage, taking in the vast landscapes on our route. The brown mountains made way for the green forest of southern Skyrim, which slowly turned white of snow. It was a sight to behold for three people who have never left the city in Hammerfall.  
The same could be said for Riften. We arrived there at night, but Secunda and Masser were full and their light reflected on the water. The city was built against a lake, and a canal divided the place in two. Imagine Bravil, but clean and prosperous. Even at night, people walked the streets, as if the city never slept.   
We, however, did have to sleep. It was a long day of travel, and our bodies were all cramped up from the carriage. A good night of rest would help us immensely the next day when searching for the ore, so we hired two rooms in the local inn to retreat for the night.

The next day, we started by asking the blacksmith where we could find such a special material, but he couldn’t help us very much. He mostly used regular iron and steel, but those weren’t magical or powerful. He said that if there were a magical ore, we would probably find it at the mountainside to the east of Riften.”  
“Somewhere east of Riften? Doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” Rallus remarked. “Why did you continue searching for the needle in the haystack?”  
The father nodded approvingly. “That thought popped up for us too, but we knew we had to persevere. There was a crisis coming, plus there was a reward waiting for us. If we weren’t able to find it, we could always return back home.  
So we grabbed our weapons, armor, and potions, and we headed out of the city. We first walked north for a couple of miles before turning towards the mountainside. We scouted for any entrances whilst walking south. All the caves we found were explored, but none proved to contain any special ore. It was frustrating, to say the least.  
When the sun touched the horizon again, we decided to head back to the inn, such that we could continue the next day. But then we heard a loud roar, and a troll headed our way. We were weary, and in no condition for a sword fight with the troll. Your mother casted a frost spell on the creature, but it proved ineffective. We ran back towards the mountainside, hoping to outclimb the beast when Pranal’s foot disappeared in a hole behind a bush. There was a hidden cave! The passage was narrow, but a person could squeeze through.  
There was only one problem: the troll wouldn’t wait until we were all through. So I grabbed my bow and tried to distract the beast with a few arrows. It worked but the creature started to follow me, and faster than I could run! I quickly climbed up a tree, and luckily, it didn’t follow me. It tried to shake me out of the tree, but I could hold on.  
A glance towards the bush revealed Pranal was already inside, and your mother started to make her way inwards. I just had to wait until the troll would lose interest in me, and I could signal the two it was safe. The troll did lose interest in me quickly, too quickly, and he went after your mother. She didn’t know any useful spells, and both Pranal and I couldn’t jump in between the two. I shot an arrow at the beast, but it moved too fast to hit.”  
“No,” Antus whispered. “Please tell me mom didn’t die at the hands of the troll. Please!”  
“It was a close call,” Valus assured his youngest son, “but I was able to save her. Back in Dragonstar, I bought a few special arrows from the emperor’s money. One of such arrows was an incinerating arrow, which I shot at the bush before the entrance. It caught fire and created a wall of flames between your mom and the troll. It tried to reach for her through the fire, but he missed her. Instead, his paw caught fire, and it fled, searching for a way to put out the fire.”

Antus sighed from relief, and even Rallus relaxed a bit. Valus took the time to take a sip of his mead, quenching his thirst before continuing his story. “I watched the sunset as I waited for the fire to go out. When it finally did, I followed your mother and Pranal into the cave. It was very narrow, and I had to push my bow and quiver in front of me to make it through. After a few meters, however, the tunnel grew wider and slowly I could stand up, where I lit a torch in the pitch-black cave.   
The first thing I noticed was the temperature in the cave. It was ... strange, for lack of a better word. The temperature was like any other cave we explored that day, but as I moved further down, the temperature rose. However, the stones were as cold as they should be.  
The second thing I noticed was the thick air, which reeked of sulfur. I didn’t know what to think of it. Was an alchemist working in the crypts of the cavern, performing a strange ritual? I sped up my pace, hoping I wouldn’t be too late to battle whoever was held up here underground.   
But as I reached the end, I realized my fear was in vain. My companions’ torch was put upright into the ground, which illuminated a bright blue substance. Pranal was already mining it, while your mother performed some spell on it. I didn't know at the time what she did, but Pranal urged me to help him work the pickaxe, so I did.   
We gathered a fair amount of the blue ore when the rocks began to stir. The temperature, which was just comfortable, began to rise, and an orange light shone through. The scent of sulfur increased, and we knew we had to get out of there."  
"What happened?" Antus asked as Rallus connected the dots.  
"Sulfur, becoming hotter," he murmured. "Did you find a volcano?"  
"Indeed, perceptive, Rallus," the father praised his oldest son. "The lava mixed with the ice long ago and formed this cold blue ore. Pranal couldn't mine it, as it was too cold to break, so your mother had to siphon the cold away. However, the cold also prevented the volcano from erupting, and now the ore was removed, nothing prevented the lava from flowing.   
We ran for the exit as the lava crept behind us. We had mined barely enough, but we wouldn't risk our lives for a chance of mining a bit more.   
We soon reached the exit, but it was as narrow as it was before. It would take some time, and the lava behind us wasn't waiting. Pranal went first with the ore, and your mother offered to go last. Maybe she would be able to slow the lava down with her magic. I didn't like leaving her alone with the molten stone, but she was the most capable to handle it.  
She downed one potion when I started crawling outside. I couldn't look behind, but my feet became colder and colder, as Sabina tried to stop the flow. She succeeded at first, but when she stopped to climb through the hole, the lava continued its way up. She climbed as fast as she could, but halfway through, she started to scream from the pain. Pranal didn’t hesitate and pulled her out of the mountain.   
We carried her away from the lava to inspect her wounds. Her dress was charred, but her legs were far worse. Her shoes were burned away, and her feet looked like a goat roast. It looked really, really bad, and we had to give her all our remaining water to battle the dehydration. We held the ore wrapped in cloth against her wounds and tried to let her drink a potion. Her legs healed a little, but it wasn’t enough for her to wake up.  
She needed to go to the temple. She would have been able to heal herself if she was awake, but she wasn’t. We needed a healer, but we weren’t anywhere near the city. We couldn’t carry both the ore and your mother to Riften, and neither splitting up nor staying the night in the wilderness would be an option.  
Desperately, I shot another incinerating arrow, now high into the air. I hoped a friendly soul would see it and come to our help. Till then, we had to wait, so we gathered our strength with some rations. Then suddenly, an orange glow shone upon us. ‘Did you send a signal?’ an Altmer man asked us, looking around our improvised encampment. With no time to spare, we quickly told him what happened and that she needed to go to the temple as soon as possible. ‘Carry her to my carriage. I will take her to the temple in Riften,’ he ordered us. There was no place for us in the carriage, but with our bellies filled, we followed by foot. 

When we finally reached the temple, the Altmer man was waiting for us outside. I wanted to rush inside, but the elf stopped me with his hand against my chest. ‘There is nothing you can do now. She is in good hands, the priestess takes care of her personally. Go back to the inn, and rest for the night,’ he urged me. Though I wanted to see my wife, I felt the exhaustion wash over me, and I followed his suggestions.  
The next day, Pranal and I checked in on Sabina again. She was resting on a bed inside the temple, but she was awake and her feet looked a lot better. She smiled weakly when she saw us, and I couldn’t help but kiss her after seeing her again.   
The priestess walked over to us and explained that Sabina needed to stay in bed at least until dusk. We agreed that Pranal and I would approach the blacksmith again and ask him if he could smith the weapon for us.   
The blacksmith was happy to help us. He first examined the ore and found it was a special type of malachite. It wouldn’t be a problem for his forge, he assured us. Something about a family secret, I remember. But no matter how hard we worked the bellows, we couldn’t get the ore to melt.   
We didn’t know what to do. The blacksmith opted to try the Skyforge in Whiterun, but he didn’t know if that would work. Then the elf from the night before approached us, confirming the smith’s words. If this forge couldn’t even deform the ore, the Skyforge wouldn’t melt it either. The only things that would be able to melt it would be the rivers on the Planes of Destruction, the domain of Mehrunes Dagon.   
Pranal objected immediately. We had a hard time defeating a troll, we wouldn’t stand a chance against dremora! And that was **if** we could go to another dimension!  
The elf assured us that he had studied the Daedric princes, in particular Mehrunes Dagon. He could get us there, and if things turned south, we could go back in an instant. I wanted to agree then and there, but Pranal took me aside. He didn’t trust that elf, even though he took Sabina to the temple. A large sum of money wasn’t worth dying for.  
I reminded him that we were destined to succeed in crafting the weapon and that it would avert a crisis. Besides, I felt that I could trust him, and even if I was wrong, it was three against one. I was confident we could take him, and Pranal reluctantly agreed.”

Valus felt the weight of the world on his shoulders when he got to this point in the story. “I was so, so wrong. The next morning, the three of us and the elf took a carriage to the city of Morthal, from where we would walk to the shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. As the horse pulled us forward, he explained that one of us had to stay behind in this plane, functioning as a magical anchor. He would commune with the Daedric Prince, as the other two would forge the weapon in the rivers of the Planes of Destruction.   
The more attuned one was with Magicka, the better anchor he or she would be. It was logical Sabina would take on that role. Pranal had some experience with smithing, and I would help him.   
The sun was already past its highest point in the sky when we reached the shrine. A forty feet tall statue of the Daedric prince was carved in the mountain, looking down maniacally on anyone that dared to approach. Shivers ran down my spine, both from the cold and the grotesque deity's statue.  
The elf drew something in the snow below the statue, allowing me to share one more moment with Sabina before I would leave this realm. Her feet were not fully healed, but the ritual didn’t require her to stand. As long as she would stay in the drawn cartwheel, we would be able to return.   
After some preparations, the elf announced we had to take our positions to begin the ritual. I gave Sabina a quick peck on the chin before I moved to one of the sixteen parts of the cartwheel. He then began to chant some words I didn’t know. It didn’t sound like elvish, and most certainly not like any tongue of mankind. I can only assume it was some sort of Daedric.  
Then after a few sentences, our surroundings suddenly changed. The cold and white part of Skyrim was replaced by the fiery red Deadlands. We had really been teleported to another dimension! I looked over to Pranal, and I could see he was as amazed as I was.   
Our arrival didn’t go unnoticed, however. Swarms of Dremora and other daedra closed in on us. We were outnumbered a few hundred to three. Pranal and I drew our swords to prepare for the upcoming fight, but it seemed pretty hopeless. Even if we defeated this group, we had to smith the weapon without new daedra coming for our heads.  
A low thundering sound announced an even worse fate. We turned around towards the sound, and the Daedric Prince himself walked to us, mere ants from his perspective. He was at least ten times as large as the statue. He would probably even tower over the Golden Tower if he would ever set foot in the Imperial City.   
I can’t possibly explain the fear I felt upon seeing him. His aura of power made my legs weak; I just wanted to make myself as small as possible in the hope he wouldn’t see us. The elf however was full of confidence and spoke to the Daedric Prince in the same language as the ritual. And lo and behold, he didn’t crush us with one of his four arms, nor did one of his minions approach us. Instead, he replied to what the elf said. It went back and forth a few times until the elf teleported away with the prince, and some smithing tools appeared in front of us. The swarm daedra parted, creating a path to the nearest river.  
At the banks of the river, or rather the stream of lava, it was even hotter than before. I suspect that the ore was the only reason we could stand the heat. Without it, we would have been cooked alive just by standing there.   
We quickly went to work, melting the ore and hammering it into a sword. It wasn’t as large as most swords you would come across, but we didn’t have enough ore to make it any bigger. It didn’t matter. The weapon radiated power, and we both believed it would be among the most powerful weapons in Tamriel. It would be a weapon worthy of a champion.  
Just as we admired our work, the elf appeared in front of us, now with a book under his arm. He didn’t elaborate on how he got it, but he seemed content, and upon seeing the sword, he teleported us back to Nirn with a small hand gesture.

The heat turned into cold again as we arrived before the shrine of the Daedric deity. I turned to Sabina to share our success, but my enthusiasm quickly turned into horror.” Valus felt the blood creep out of his face when he pictured again what happened. “We found your mother’s body where we left her alive. I didn’t recognize her at first, but the charred dress left little room for discussion. My beautiful wife had her life sucked out of her, and laid in the snow like a Draugr.”  
“No!” the two sons gasped. Both Rallus and Antus didn’t know what to say. The death of their mother came out of nowhere. There was no fight, no apparent danger. “How … how did it happen?” Antus stammered.  
“It was the elf,” Valus answered. “It turned out he had been controlling us, controlling me the entire time. He needed a ‘fool’ to create a bridge between the realms. When he stumbled on us, he knew we were foolish and desperate enough to follow him. Only a simple spell was needed to ensure my compliance. I was confused, I was angry, but I couldn’t take revenge. His hold on me was too strong. Pranal tried, but a humongous fireball stopped him. The elf said we should be glad we got our sword and our lives before he disappeared into thin air.”

Tears rolled over his cheeks as his emotions of twenty years ago hit him again. “Pranal and I buried her quickly at the nearest graveyard and then took a carriage to the Imperial City. With everything that happened these few days, I wanted to leave this quest behind me as soon as possible. However, we needed to face the man that was responsible for all of this. Without the emperor, we wouldn’t have gone on this quest, and Sabina would still be alive. I could rip him apart with my bare hands.  
After a few hours, we arrived at the Imperial City. The emperor had expected us, and we could walk right through to the throne room. We didn’t have to disarm ourselves, especially since we had to show the sword, which we named Chillrend during the ride.   
The emperor admired the weapon and complimented us on our achievement, but I wasn’t focused on his sweet words. He then saw the grieve in our eyes and asked what happened to our companion. I couldn't keep my anger in anymore. Furiously I screamed at him what happened at the shrine and that it was his fault. I drew Chillrend with the intent to strike him down, but Pranal drew his own sword faster and moved between me and the emperor. I urged him to move aside, to give me my revenge, but he didn’t listen to me. Instead, he tried to talk me down.   
It saved me. The royal guard had drawn their weapons too and would’ve struck me down if I made a wrong move. I was good, but not good enough to fight my friend and four royal guards.   
Pranal didn’t calm me down enough to stop me, but it allowed the emperor to say a few words. ‘I’m sorry for your wife, my dear Valus,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know she would die on this quest. If I did, I would have told you. Believe me, I know what it is to lose a loved one,” he explained as he twisted one of his rings. He was thinking about his wife, who he had lost at the birth of his third legitimate son.  
It was then that I realized that I had gone too far. I apologized for my behavior like it would never be enough, but the emperor brushed it off. He understood my grief and offered to pay for a stone on Sabina’s grave. Furthermore, Sabina’s share of the payment would be divided over the two of us.

You know the rest,” Valus finished his story. “We moved to our new farm here and tended the fields for the past decades. I kept the sword hidden away, I didn’t want to be reminded of Sabina's death. But when that stranger offered to help with the goblins, I knew he was the Champion the emperor talked about all those years back in Dragonstar.”  
"Did you ever go back to Dragonstar?" Rallus asked.  
"No, I couldn't. I was too busy at the farm. Furthermore, I didn't think I was strong enough to carry the emotional burden. I haven't even been to her grave since we buried her. But it helped, telling you this story.”  
"Can we see it?" Antus asked. "Can we go to mom's grave?"  
Value nodded. "I would love to travel to Morthal with you. I promise that we'll do it as soon as this Oblivion crisis is finished."  
Something didn't feel right, however. The explanation and the promise didn't feel like they were enough.  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner," he apologized to his sons. "I didn't know when you'd be ready for this, and I was afraid of your reactions. But I mostly did it to spare myself, not thinking about your feelings. I can only imagine how frustrating it would have been for you."  
"It's okay, dad," Rallus comforted his dad. "We know it, that's the most important thing. We know our mother was a hero."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I took a gamble by writing it like Valus was telling the story, so I hope it worked out. Let me know what you think!
> 
> The idea of this fic came when I tried to understand how Chillrend was forged. In both Oblivion and Skyrim, it looked like a glass sword, but it was blue instead of green. Let me know if you want me to 'forge' another weapon of one of these games :) Maybe I'll turn this into a series.


End file.
